What the frickety frack!First, I wake up next to a total stranger.He’s a gorgeous stranger, but still, I don’t know who he is.Second, we’re both naked wearing matching wedding bands.Both events are likely listed in thingsnotto do after being jilted at the altar.
As if that isn’t bizarre enough, why is there a full zoo of mountain wildlife helping themselves to food and champagne inside the cabin?That place was supposed to be the site of a romantic, secluded honeymoon, not a wildlife sanctuary.
“Running naked through the forest was not on my annual bingo card.”I make the comment to no one in particular, although it does appear that a pair of young squirrels are following me, leaping from branch to branch through the thick trees.
Dashing through the forest, my bare feet find every sharp rock, twig, and pine needle they can.At least it’s warm out and I don’t have to worry about frostbite.Not freezing to death is the only positive as I race to escape certain death, my poor throat ripped out by a giant mountain lion wearing...a sparkling pink collar?
Panic fades to disbelief with every step and I slow to a jog.I glance over my shoulder, searching for the lethal cat with its humongous murder mittens.Is it coming after me to make me its breakfast?
I really don’t want to be eaten by a mountain lion.It’s not my idea of a good time.
I don’t see the animal, but I can’t be sure it isn’t following.Mountain lions like stalking their prey.
We went camping when I was a kid.A lot.My dad wanted to make sure he taught me how to get along in the woods, how to hunt and fish and find shelter if I was ever lost.He taught me how to use a compass and start a fire.Right now, however, my dad would be so disappointed in me.It’s like I forgot everything he taught me about survival.
The boxes I could tick off on thetoo-stupid-to-live-checklistare numerous.I ran out of the cabin shoeless, with no cell phone.I don’t have a compass, bottled water, or any type of weapon.I have no bear mace or medical supplies in case of injury.Perhaps the dumbest thing I’ve done?I’m racing deeper into the forest, instead of heading toward civilization, without a single stitch of clothing on.No cover.I’m free-boobing it all the way.
If anyone from town sees me running naked through the forest like a crazy person, I will never, ever live it down.I will always be considered the pathetic, sad, jilted local baker who lost her damn mind.Maybe I do need to spend some quality time in a padded cell.Either way, I will have to move far, far away to avoid the humiliation.
Slowing my footsteps a pinch, I scan the perimeter and listen for the sound of pursuit.
Why can’t I remember what happened after I left the church yesterday?
There are flashes of images in my mind, like snapshots of the previous night.But none of them make sense.
Did I marry the hot naked dude?In front of a Sasquatch standing in as the officiant?
It seems too fantastical to be real.Yet there’s this memory of repeating vows while standing in front of a hairy giant who didn’t speak English.Is the memory real?
I do a slow count to eight and exhale in frustration, wracking my brain for the truth.
I just don’t know.Why can’t I remember much of the past eighteen hours beyond a few jumbled memories that seem too bizarre to be true?
Not knowing is driving me crazy.I itch to bake a batch of lemon bars, cinnamon rolls, toffee chunk delight cookies, or my award-winning mocha latte sugar cookies.Baking soothes my nerves.Baking makes sense.Whenever I’m stressed, I bake.But in the little house of horrors, I can’t even manage a cup of coffee, let aloneanything that will calm me.
I move until I can’t, until the hitch in my side feels as if it’s stabbing me and my feet ache from being repeatedly poked.Oh god, I might puke.This is why I never run.I know some people claim to enjoy it—frankly, I don’t believe them—but I don’t.Personally, I think the people who like running are a few beers shy of a sixpack.One would think my body would compensate for my shortcomings in a time of crisis.
But nooooo.
I’m still the same awkward, can barely breathe, why does running suck so much, girl I was in high school.Bracing my hands against my knees, I gasp and wheeze, siphoning air into my lungs, imitating a guppy tossed onto dry land.It’s been years since I tried to run.I gotta say, I give it one star.Would definitely not recommend the activity.
It’s just…my brain feels broken.Attempting to make sense of the slashes of memory leaves me wondering if I truly did leave my sanity in the church.I realize that I wasn’t running just from the mountain lion, but from my mistakes, even the ones I can’t remember making.
It's not every day a woman wakes up beside a stranger with a wedding ring on her finger.Only to have it followed by a parade of wild animals, each one more ridiculous than the last.How did the bear get into the bathtub?I don’t even want to consider how he came to be wearing that pink tutu, or whose idea it was to give the poor creature champagne.Or better yet, how did the deer get inside, and why was my bra dangling from his antlers?Raccoons?Those trash pandas are everywhere, but notinside the house.
I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to feed wild animals.Which means in addition to marrying a stranger, I committed a few crimes along the way.
Exactly how did the mountain lion get inside?Maybe that's how the back door was ruined.On second thought, that was more likely either the bear or the gigantic deer.Cats are too dignified to try to break down a door with brute force.Given the state of the rental cabin, I am definitely not getting my damage deposit back.
No more tequila for me from this day forward.Tequila is bad.Tequila is evil.Tequila makes smart women do really dumb things.
Concern washes over me and my body tingles.Every one of my senses becomes hyperaware.The forest stills.
What fresh hell is this?Whatever I’m feeling, it cannot good.
I glance around the forest, praying the mountain lion isn’t about to spring out from a hidden spot.All I see are trees.
The moment I left the church my sanity went on vacation.It’s the only logical explanation.Twenty-four hours ago I stood on the cusp of obtaining everything I thought I wanted, marriage to a rich, successful man willing to plunk down roots and live in the same town for the rest of our lives.He said he wanted the same things I do, a home, a family, a house with a white picket fence and flower beds out front.I haven’t changed.I want stability.I want a home, roots, friends and a community that knows my name.I want to belong somewhere.Marrying Nicholas was going to give me that.
